


The Sexual Misadventures of the Serpent of Eden and the 6,000 Year Old Virgin

by MsThunderFrost



Series: The Sexual Misadventures of the Serpent of Eden and the 6,000 Year Old Virgin [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anatomy of a Snake, Angel/Demon Sex, Angelic Anatomy, Angelic Sexuality, Clothed Sex, Consent is Sexy, Crowley's Forked Tongue, Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demisexuality, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, First Time, Frottage, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pansexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Rutting, Snakes, Virginity, hissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: In which Aziraphalereallywants Crowley to punch his V-card and Crowley is definitely DTF...so long as Aziraphale is willing to overlook one little anatomicalquirk.





	The Sexual Misadventures of the Serpent of Eden and the 6,000 Year Old Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> I took a comment on my other fic, "Size Does(n't) Matter", about snakes having two penises and the canon that angels _can_ have sex, but it requires quite a bit of effort on their end, and came up with this brain child. 
> 
> I plan on making this into a series, so if you have any ideas for any "sexual misadventures" you'd like to see these two get up to, feel free to drop a comment letting me know! I'm always open to suggestions :)

“There’s, ah…something you should know, angel, before we start all this.” Crowley made a rather crude gesture in the direction of his genitals, “I trust you are…familiar with the phrase ‘more to love’?”

Aziraphale _had_ heard the phrase, upon occasion. It was most commonly used as a body-positive way of saying that someone had a bit of extra flesh in the stomach or thighs…and while Aziraphale would love Crowley, regardless of what form the demon took (he still wasn’t ready to admit to the places his mind went when Crowley had slithered up beside him in Eden and flashed him that deliciously _long_ , forked tongue), Crowley was, and likely always would be, ramrod thin. So Aziraphale, who rather liked the carefully defined world of black and white, right and wrong, sometimes found that he had a bit of trouble understanding the gray. The idea that angels could be _wrong_ , for example, had seemed about as likely as men digging tunnels from Tibet to listen in on your everyday conversations—until Uriel slammed him up against a wall and threatened him within an inch of his immortal life and Adam Young had made it so.

He must’ve been quiet for too long, because Crowley had begun to grow…antsy. Aziraphale, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out what ‘more to love’ could have to do with the demons genitalia. Was he particularly well-endowed? Though he did not often engage in conversation regarding the size of human genitalia, he’d read enough books (yes, even _those_ kinds of books, which he kept stored in the deepest recesses of the bookstores so that snooping angels with booming voices—which, while _fantastic_ for things like announcing the birth of the Savior, tended to make handling affairs with any degree of _discretion_ next to impossible—wouldn’t stumble across them and announce to all the world that he kept bloody _pornography_ in the front room)to deduce that being _large_ was not necessarily a bad thing. And he didn’t think Crowley would’ve phrased his question just so if the issue was that he was _small_.

Crowley snapped his fingers in front of the angel’s face, “Hello? Earth to Aziraphale.” Aziraphale blinked several times, before his eyes settled on Crowley’s face, his features pinched with irritation. “Have a nice little daydream?”

Aziraphale at the very least had the grace to look sheepish, “Sorry. Got a bit distracted there.” He smiled at him brightly, “What were we talking about again?”

“Sex.” Crowley bit out. The angel flushed an unhealthy vermillion and squirmed a bit in his over-stuffed arm chair. “You know…doing squat thrusts in the cucumber patch. Making a magical sandwich. Mattress-dancing. Threading the needle -,”

The poor angel looked horrifically confused, “I’m sorry…what?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Angels are quite a bit like Barbie dolls, yes? Just enough to give a hint of biological sex, but not anatomically correct in the least. Something about pleasures of the flesh distracting you from your divine purpose.”

“I mean, yes…it’s all rather smooth down there. Angels don’t really feel sexual desire in the way that humans do, so there’s really no need for…the _equipment,_ as it were, more often than not.” And then, at Crowley’s rather flat look, he hurriedly amended. “But that doesn’t mean…I would rather like to try it with you, at least once.”

“So you feel sexual desire…for me?” Crowley asked, most likely not intending to sound as surprised as he did.

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. I mean, I think that I do. You’ll have to give me a bit of leeway, seeing as I’ve never felt anything quite like this before, but -,”

“Would finding out that I have two dicks be a deal breaker?” Crowley blurted.

It took a minute for Crowley’s words to sink in. Two…two pen- _dangly bits_. That was certainly _unusual_ , yes, but by no means a deal breaker. Crowley was quite unlike any human or demon that Aziraphale had been acquainted with in his six millennia of existence—physicality aside, Crowley was brilliant and charming and awkwardly sweet (but you didn’t hear that from him—if Crowley caught wind of the angel _complimenting_ him he’d have a bloody conniption). And even if it _was_ his job to swindle them out of their souls, Crowley had a rare respect for humanity that most humans could not claim to possess.

He wanted to say that Crowley’s appearance had never truly mattered to him. Of course, he had _noticed_ when, every hundred years or so, the demon would style his hair in a different way (or simply cut it altogether), or when Crowley altered his wardrobe to keep up with the latest fashion trends (Aziraphale was particularly fond of Crowley’s skin-tight black jeans—ssskinny jeansss, the demon had called them, his eyes twinkling mischievously). It had also never particularly bothered him that Crowley was male. Angels had a decidedly less… _fixed_ concept of gender and sexuality than their human counterparts. After all, the Almighty created everything in Her image, and everything that She created was good and perfect and _right_ —so how could it ever be wrong to love who you love, to be _who you are_? So yes, Aziraphale knew that he would not be condemned for loving, and, more recently, wanting to have sex with, another man.

The whole demon thing was a decidedly _bigger_ issue.

Considering that Gabriel had taken _great_ delight in trying to destroy him with hellfire after the not-Apocalypse for cavorting with a demon for near six millennia (and that was back before they’d admitted their feelings, let alone considered bumping uglies—if possible, Aziraphale’s blush darkened, actually crossing that final line would render his chances of being Forgiven about equivalent to a lowly ice cube’s chances in Hell. In other words, Very Not Good. Was it wrong that, knowing all of that, he still very much wanted to do it?

He came back to himself when he heard the door to his flat open, Crowley muttering under his breath about how he should have known better than to think the angel would go for it. Aziraphale rushed to his feet, looking rather like a fool as he stumbled over himself, rushing to make it to Crowley before he walked out the door and, Aziraphale suspected, out of his life for the foreseeable future. Crowley did not take rejection well—which was understandable, considering the last time that Aziraphale had shot him down, the angel had gone and _died_ (not really) and Crowley had really (really) lost his shit. He managed to grab hold of Crowley’s shoulder, before spinning him around and dragging him in for a kiss that _would_ have been romantic, if the momentum hadn’t resulted in them crashing foreheads hard enough to bruise and Crowley snapping down on his lower lip with enough force to draw blood.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” Crowley said, rubbing a hand over his throbbing forehead. The blood smeared across his lower lip made him look rather like a vampire.

“I would like for you to fuck me.” Aziraphale blurted, before clasping a hand over his mouth when he realized what it was he’d _actually_ said. Aziraphale was quite proud of the fact that he so rarely cursed—he _would_ say never, except there _was_ that one unfortunate incident with Sergeant Shadwell and the circle.

Crowley wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, “Feeling a bit aggressive there, angel?” He teased as he regained his composure, slowly backing Aziraphale up against the wall. “I like that.”

“N-No, I didn’t mean…I just…” Aziraphale suddenly found himself at a loss for words as his back hit the wall _hard_. “C- _Crowley_ …”

“Lassst chance to back out, angel.” The tip of Crowley’s forked tongue popped out between his teeth and Aziraphale was not ashamed to admit that he almost fainted.

Aziraphale dug his fingers into Crowley’s crimson button down, whispering, “ _Please_ …”

“I need to hear you sssay it.” Crowley’s mouth was right next to the angel’s ear, and Aziraphale could hear his heart pounding away inside of his chest. “Consssent is sssexy.” He could feel Crowley’s manhoods straining against the confines of his jeans.

The angel swallowed hard, “I do…I do want it. I want _you_.”

The ensuing kiss was decidedly less painful for all involved. Crowley’s lips glided over Aziraphale’s, that traitorous tongue seeking entrance into the angel’s moist cavern. Aziraphale positively _bloomed_ beneath him, opening up with a soft moan and allowing the demon’s tongue to slither inside and explore. The angel tasted like hot chocolate and old-fashioned butterscotch candies and something so _pure_ that it made the demon’s chest ache…

He did not dwell on it for long. Instead, deciding that the angel was wearing far too many clothes, he began helping him to remove the offending articles. Well, _help_ might have been a bit too strong of a word. More accurately, he tore the angel’s coat and vest off with such ferocity the seams practically disintegrated and cast them aside before Aziraphale could see the damage (because he knew his soon-to-be lover all too well, and knew that the angel would bitch about how, while he _could_ fix it with a minor miracle, he would always know that the damage was there and blah, blah, bladdy-blah). Thankfully, it would seem as if the angel was thoroughly distracted by Crowley’s tongue committing each of the little nooks and crannies of his mouth to memory and his fingers popping each of the buttons on his lavender dress shirt one…by…one…

Crowley was decidedly gentler with the shirt, if only because he had just become privy to miles and miles of soft, creamy skin. Aziraphale was flushed all the way down to his chest, and when Crowley broke away he found himself frantically gasping for air that he didn’t need. The demon did not offer him reprieve for long. Diving down, he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s neck, biting down hard enough to leave a nice, purplish-red welt in his wake, but not hard enough to draw blood. He left a trail of these marks, forming something of a backwards letter ‘C’, from the crook of Aziraphale’s neck to his right nipple. Golden eyes locked upon Aziraphale’s, searching for _something_ …he must’ve found whatever it was he was searching for, because in the next moment that glorious tongue is doing circles around Aziraphale’s nipple and, before he really has a chance to comprehend what the demon is doing, he’s got the angel’s nipple between his teeth and is suckling for all he’s worth.

“Oh…oh my…” somewhere along the line, Aziraphale had begun rutting against him, and Crowley wasn’t quite sure when he’d done it, but he was certainly no longer _flat_ downstairs. “Oh _God_ …”

Crowley paused, looking up at the angel with eyes narrowed, “Not exactly the name I want to hear you calling right now, angel.” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“I mean, if you want to be technical, she _did_ create both of us, so in a roundabout way -,” Crowley, who very much did _not_ want to be technical, hoisted the angel up into the air with surprising strength and, grabbing firm hold of the globes of Aziraphale’s ass, ground their hips together so fiercely that it was just this side of painful.

“If you can still think clearly enough to form coherent sentences, I’m not doing my job right.” He said.

The new angle was positively _delightful_. Aziraphale’s body was deliciously sensitive—it turned out that six thousand year old virgins weren’t all that difficult to please. And what Aziraphale lacked in skill, he certainly made up for in eagerness. At this rate, he wouldn’t even have time to divest the angel of his pants before he came. And while cumming in his pants like an overexcited teenager _should_ have been embarrassing, Aziraphale rocked his hips in a slow, steady circle and the words died in Crowley’s throat as he moaned, his hips moving of their own accord, chasing that delicious friction.

“Crowley… _Crowley,_ o-oh…I feel…” his body went rigid beneath Crowley’s, a high-pitched moan falling from his lips. Seeing the look of pure bliss upon the angel’s face, along with feeling the wetness of his spend soak the front of his slacks, was enough to send Crowley careening over the edge.

It took him a minute to collect himself, but as he slowly lowered Aziraphale to the ground, pressing a quick kiss to the angel’s slightly swollen lips, he managed, “You feel good, I hope.”

Aziraphale gave a dopey smile, letting his head fall onto the demon’s shoulder. “Better than good.” Pausing for a moment, he whispered, so soft the demon almost couldn’t hear, “When we…next time I’d like to try…would you like to…in me?” He squeaked.

Crowley smirked, “Already planning next time, angel?”

Aziraphale began to panic, “That is, of course, assuming that you would like to have a next time. I don’t mean to presume anything -,”

Crowley pressed a finger to his lips, effectively cutting him off. “Next time.”


End file.
